It's a Wonderful Life Worth Living
by bammi1
Summary: Would the world have been a better place if he had never been born? That was the question Bobby asked himself. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

It's a Wonderful Life Worth Living

Would the world have been a better place if he had never been born? That was the question Bobby asked himself.

A/N This is my version of 'It's a Wonderful Life' Bobby Goren style. Some of the events are from the show itself, others are made up, and some are combined.

None of these characters belong to me.

Christmas time in New York City, in the year 2008 was an exciting, happy place. There was the shopping and the shoppers looking for that elusive perfect gift; the beautifully decorated store windows, full of the smudgy fingerprints of the little children who watched in wonder at the animations of Rudolph and the elves. There were Christmas trees and lights and decorations everywhere. And all over the brightly lit city a light snow was falling.

_Way above the city, higher than the clouds, the saints and the angels watched this beautiful scene. They always watched over the city, and at Christmas time they were especially vigilant. While Christmas for most people was a happy time, for a few others it was vastly different. These were the exceptions, some who needed a little help, and some who needed a lot more. But right now the Heavens were concerned about the one man who needed it most—Robert Goren. Recently there had been a lot of prayers being sent to heaven on his behalf. _

_In the nighttime sky, the saints and the angels discussed the man slowly walking through the streets, with not even a destination in mind. St. Peter pointed him out. "Well, there he is, Jacob, your new charge, Robert 'Bobby' Goren, detective extraordinaire—a man who doesn't think his life is worth living."_

_Jacob didn't understand. "Well, if he's so extraordinary, why does he think his life is so worthless? And why am I…? Oh no! He's not thinking…"_

"_I'm afraid so. He's a thinker, Jacob," Peter explained, "sometimes a little too much. He's also a good man. This man has had a lot of pain in his life. He just doesn't want any more pain. He's trying to figure it all out, but he just keeps coming back to the same thing."_

"_And he needs our help? __My__ help? __I…I'm not sure I'm ready…saving a man's life…this is a big task."_

"_I have confidence in you, Jacob_. _This is your big opportunity."_

"_Of course…I…I just hope I'm up to it. So what happened to him anyway?" _

"_It's a long story, Jacob, one that started way before he was even born, when his_ _parents each sought comfort from others and his mother took up with a serial killer—"_

"_Why? Why would anyone take up with a serial killer?" Jacob was totally perplexed._

"_The 'why' isn't important, the point is, she did. And out of that pairing came her second son, Bobby."_

"_Jeez, tough start in life."_

"_Yes, it was. Young Bobby didn't realize it, of course, until, well, just recently. But the man he thought of as his father realized it. And treated him accordingly, different than his other son."_

_Jacob winced, and Peter went on. "And his mother was sick, a disease of the mind that couldn't be cured in those days. If she wasn't screaming to get the demons out of him, he was scared to death of the demons in her. She would alternately beat him, scare him, or embarrass him, often at the same time. And as bad as he hated the beatings his mother gave him, he hated his father's apathy towards him_ _even more. He wouldn't give young Bobby the time of day. It was so bad that Bobby often did things on purpose to anger his father, just to get a beating. It was his only way to get his father's attention."_

"_Wow! And he turned out to be a good man? After that start?"_

"_That's the strange part," Peter said, a bit of wonder in his own voice. "Oddly enough, it seems that most of the troubles this man got himself into throughout his life have been the result of his trying to help others; this man is one of the kindest, gentlest, most decent men—" _

"_Which is why we—I—have to help him!" Jacob concluded._

"_Exactly!" Peter said proudly. "You'll get it right yet, Jacob. What you are going to do is show Bobby just what the world would have been like if he had never been born. First I'll show you a few pages from Bobby's life. Remember them, they will be important. And then you'll begin."_

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

It's a Wonderful Life Worth Living Chapter 2

The clouds seemed to clear and Peter and Jacob were looking down at eight year old Bobby Goren, a third grader in St. Joseph's School. It was recess and he was in the playground playing around with a few other boys.

"_Aw, he sure is a little cutie," Jacob commented from above. _

"_Focus, Jacob!" Peter scolded. "This is why it's taking you so long to get your wings!"_

_Thoroughly chastised, Jacob watched and listened_, _then Peter relented. "But yes, Bobby was a very beautiful child physically. More importantly, he was also beautiful on the inside. He had a warm and loving heart. Not that he couldn't be riled, though…_

Soon a couple of young girls arrived.

"Hi, Bobby," they said in a singsong voice. Bobby looked at them, and then looked away shyly.

"What's the matter, Bobby? Are you afraid you'll be crazy like your mother?" Now they had his attention.

"She's not crazy!" Bobby responded angrily.

"Yes, she is!" One of the girls, a particularly mean little girl, went on. I saw her! And my mother saw her too! We were in the grocery store, and your mother was there, and she was talking to herself." A few kids snickered, and Bobby reddened. "And then she put a box on her head and said it was going to rain!" The girl started laughing, barely able to continue. "She said…she said… we should all take cover!"

Now all the kids laughed. Bobby felt his cheeks turn hot.

"She's crazy, crazy…" By now a larger crowd had gathered, and a few started chanting "Bob-by Gore-on, mother is a mor-on."

"She is not! Stop saying that!" Bobby felt like crying, tears stung his eyes, but he learned a long time ago, with "help" from his father, that tears only made things worse. Why did they always have to do this? As they continued to chant, Bobby felt his shame turn to anger. His friends backed off, knowing what was coming. It was starting to happen on a regular basis.

Now one of the older boys started. "She is too! She's a crazy old witch!"

"You take it back!"

The boy gave Bobby a hard shove. "You make me take it back!"

Before anyone knew what was happening, Bobby ran at the boy and rammed his head into the boy's stomach, knocking him down. And even though he was much younger and smaller he soon got the best of the other boy. He was angry, very angry.

Minutes later, Sister Mary Thomas and Sister Angelina James were there, pulling the boys apart. It took quite a bit to pull Bobby off, and even longer to calm him down. Of course the other boy claimed Bobby started it, and Bobby refused to defend himself to the nuns so he suffered the brunt of the punishment. The other boy got off with a written punishment, but the nuns were fed up with Bobby's inability to stay out of trouble. And the fact that he was such an intelligent child with a high I.Q. yet did so poorly in school angered them. They had no idea of his tumultuous family life and the toll it took on him. They took him to see Father Michael, who was not at all gentle with him.

_Watching from above, Peter said, "Bobby is a very angry child. He's been abused and neglected, and very much misunderstood. He's angry, but mostly at himself. He thinks that everything that has happened to him is all his fault."_

"_Poor kid," Jacob commented._

_A few moments later they were seeing a whole new scene. Now they were looking into Bobby's home… _He was eleven now, and his father was officially gone from their lives, leaving Bobby, his fourteen year old brother Frank and their mother to fend for themselves. The elder Goren had completely cut himself off from his sick wife and two sons. And although his father had never shown even the slightest bit of interest in him (other than punishing him) Bobby missed him terribly. He had literally craved attention from his father his entire life, and now it would never happen. He was devastated.

Life after that, though never easy before, was difficult; their father never once sent any money, and there were a lot of money problems. Frances worked as a librarian, which paid very little and because of her illness often found it difficult, if not impossible, to work. Frank got a temporary part time job after school. That didn't last, though, once he got in with the wrong crowd. And Bobby did odd jobs in the neighborhood. Sometimes it was only the money Bobby earned that put dinner on the table at night.

Frank had taken to staying away from home. He had no more desire to be at home with their mother than his father had, but wasn't quite old enough to leave home. The day he turned eighteen, though, he'd be out of there, too. The most he could do now was stay away as much as possible, and with their mother so messed up mentally it was pretty easy. So that left Bobby, at only eleven, to be the responsible one and care for his mother. It wasn't especially a job he liked, he'd have rather been out playing like his friends, but there really wasn't much choice in the matter.

"_Bobby was _always_ the responsible one," Peter said, "the caretaker. And no one ever really appreciated his efforts."_

On this particular day, Bobby came home from school to find Frank gone again, and his mother, Frances, very agitated. "Mom," he said tentatively, "did you…um, take your pills today?"

She didn't hear him, or ignored him; he wasn't sure, and continued pacing back and forth with a cigarette in her hand about to burn her hand. All she kept saying was, "Frank! Where is Frank?" Then she turned to Bobby, not really seeing him. "Frank's gone, I can't find Frank!"

"Mom, your cigarette…" he nodded to her hand. She still ignored him, but a second later jammed the cigarette into an ashtray, then picked up the ashtray and smashed it back on the table, breaking it, startling Bobby. Frances continued to pace, talking to herself.

Bobby went into the kitchen and saw the pills he had left for her in the morning still sitting there, along with the cup of water. He sighed; this was going to be a hell of a night. He looked around. Nothing cooking on the stove. If they were going to eat tonight, and he was really hungry, he would be doing the cooking. This seemed to be happening more and more lately, Frances couldn't get it together long enough to cook or prepare a meal. Especially when she refused to take her pills. He picked up the pills and a fresh cup of water and took them to his mother.

"Here, Ma, here's your pills. Guess you forgot to take them today…"

Frances glared at him and suddenly knocked the pills and water from his hands. They went flying, and she slapped him hard. "I don't need those damn pills. They're going in the trash! Where are they?!"

"Mom, don't—"

"You think you can hide them from me? Do you?" She was furious. She started to hit him again, and he tried to back away, putting his arms and hands over his head to protect himself as best as he could. Frances exhausted herself trying to hit him, and then went into the kitchen. It didn't take her but a moment to find the "hidden" pills which were right in the cabinet, in the same place where they always were. She grabbed the bottle, and opened it, and started pouring the pills down the drain.

"Mom! If you throw 'em out we can't get any more for two weeks! Mom!"

Frances pushed him away and proceeded to pour them down the drain. She turned on the water, just to make sure they were gone. Then she turned to Bobby. "Get out!"

"Huh?"

It seemed to him as if she no longer realized who he was. She started after him again, trying again to hit him, all the while screaming, "Get out of my house. Now! GET OUT!" Before he even knew it he was out, and she was locking the doors. He stood there for a moment, then looked around to see if anyone else had seen this latest fiasco. Luckily it didn't appear that anyone had, and he breathed a sigh of relief for at least that. He felt his face where his mother had slapped him. His face not only hurt, it was hot, and he could already feel the welts her fingers had left on his face. He didn't want anyone to see him like that, cause they'd _know._ He had no idea when he'd be allowed back in the house, but the question really was, when would it be safe? When she got this way, she could be dangerous. A few times she had been so out of it she had really hurt him bad. If Frank hadn't returned when he did…

He sat on the steps and just waited, and realized that he was hungry. God only knew when he'd get back into the house to eat. Just once he wished Frank would come home and help him, because he just didn't know what to do. He was too young to be dealing with such things. It was almost beyond the young boy's scope. Not knowing what to do next, he finally decided to go to his friend Lewis' house. When this kind of thing happened, Lewis' home and family became his refuge. They knew all about his family situation. The good thing about this family was that they never made a big deal out of it, even though sometimes it was obvious that Bobby had been hurt in some way. Although sympathetic for what he was going through, they never treated him any different from any of Lewis' other friends, except that he spent a lot more time at their house than the other kids did. Bobby realized what they were doing, and appreciated it. It always got at least a small smile out of him. And of course Bobby reciprocated by helping Lewis (who had no head for math) with his school work. Basically it was Bobby who got Lewis through high school.

"_Pretty sad," Jacob said._

_Peter agreed, "Nothing he wasn't used to. She could be much worse, and was, but could also have her tender moments with him. Unfortunately they were few and far between. _

Once again they looked down on young Bobby and his mother. This time a lucid Frances was finishing in the kitchen, and making some coffee. She carried it into the living room, where Bobby was lying on the floor watching a television show. When she came in, he jumped up. "I…I was just watching till you came back, Mom. Your favorite show is on another channel; want me to put it on for you?"

"Come here, Bobby," she told him. Bobby took a deep breath, went to her and braced himself for the worst. But she took his hands and pulled him to her, holding him in a tight embrace. To his surprise, she started crying. "Bobby, you are such a good boy and I'm…so sorry for the way I've been. I don't know where I'd be now if it wasn't for you…You make sure I take my pills, or at least you try to." She laughed a little. "And half the time you're the one fixing supper. You do everything." She kissed him, and hugged him to her. "You're such a good boy," she repeated.

"It's okay, Ma," he told her. And he waited, waited for the bomb to drop once more. It seemed like he was always waiting.

Unfortunately moments like this only served to confuse Bobby more. He loved his mother very much, and would have done anything for things to stay like this. But he knew they wouldn't. The good times were in the minority, and he never knew where he stood with her or what would set her off. He had to be on guard all the time.

"_Being on edge like that all the time…he had to be a very tense and exhausted boy," Jacob guessed._

"_Yes," Peter agreed. "The hardest part about this for Bobby was that when others made fun of him because of her, he felt a terrible shame, and an even worse sense of guilt for feeling that shame. But he loved her much more than he felt the shame, and defended, protected, and cared for her until the day she died._

"_That all seemed to have followed him into adulthood," Peter said. They watched Bobby's life as he grew, through the tough teenage years, which, by the way, were very turbulent, to the time he joined the army, where he became a member of the Army CID. In the CID he would get the opportunity to use his great intelligence in profiling and crime solving, which later would come in handy when he became a detective in the NYPD. It was also the place where he first came into contact with Declan Gage, the man who would become his mentor, and in later years do him the most harm._

_Bobby rose through the ranks of the NYPD very quickly; his prowess in Narcotics was legendary. And now he was a detective first grade in the elite Major Case Squad. _

_Peter continued. "Unfortunately for Bobby, the important job he had with the NYPD left him little time for a social life, and coupled with his fear of being hurt, left him a very lonely man." _

"_So he never got married?" Jacob said, a note of sadness in his voice._

"_No…not that he didn't want to, all he really ever wanted in life was a real family, and to make a small difference in the world. He dated on occasion, but nothing really serious. His most serious relationship was with Denise Bremer, the assistant to the Chief of Detectives. Although he still sees her, his time is so limited that its almost impossible…Look, here is Bobby on the job with his partner, Alexandra…" _

_Jacob watched for a minute. "Nothing going on with them, I guess?"_

"_No, they care very deeply for one another, but not romantically…Watch this…"_

Detectives Bobby Goren and Alex Eames arrived at the Coulter residence. Lucas Coulter was a man who owed a large debt to a loan shark, and his wife and daughters Maggie and Sarah were kidnapped in an attempt by the kidnappers to collect on the debt. While in captivity Maggie had been raped by a man who had committed various acts of violence against woman and girls during the War in Bosnia. He was continuing his reign of terror in the U.S. now, in the employ of the loan shark.

After the family had been released, Bobby and Alex wanted to talk to Maggie, to try to get her to identify her attacker so he could be put away and never harm another person again. Mr. Coulter was against it, but when his wife allowed it, Bobby was up the stairs in a second, with his partner Alex Eames right on his heels. Once in the room, he stood back for a moment as Alex tried talking sympathetically to Maggie. "Hi, Maggie, I'm Alex. I know you're angry…we can't make it better for you, only you can do that…" But Maggie was shut down; she was having none of it.

Then Bobby stepped in. "C'mon, look. That's the same crap she hears from her therapist…She's not a little girl, she'll talk when she wants to talk." He showed her pictures of the men who kidnapped her, and proceeded to tell her that this one was in the Serbian Army, that he and his buddies raped thousands of women and showed her newspaper accounts. And that they were now planning on kidnapping a fourteen year old girl. Bobby told her the man was a coward, a weakling.

And Maggie responded by saying "maybe _they're_ the weaklings!"

"Who? The victims? No…This guy is a sadist, he likes to hurt people."

"Maybe he just knows what he wants and goes after it! Maybe he's just stronger than anybody else!"

"You like that about him? Want to be like him, never feel helpless again?" Bobby egged her on, and soon got her to admit just how helpless she had felt in the hands of the kidnapper, and she finally broke down. Bobby held her in a protective embrace and comforted her as she told him how bad the man had hurt her. And Bobby told her how strong she had been; she survived. In the end, Maggie made the ID, and the man went to prison. And Maggie, with her breakthrough with Bobby, his encouragement, and some professional counseling, was able to live a normal life.

"_See that? Peter asked, proud as if Bobby were his own son. "Smart, __and__ empathetic."_

"_I'll say," Jacob agreed._

They watched more of Bobby's life, the troubles with his schizophrenic mother, and his brother, who, despite his intelligence, turned to a life of drugs and gambling. They watched Bobby's success with the NYPD, his incredible solve rate, his friendship with his partner, his outrage at criminals for harming their victims, and his sympathy for the victims, especially children. And his understanding (and occasional empathy) of the criminal mind. And they knew his worst fear: that with a family history of mental illness, someday he, too, would go insane. Bobby's crime solving methods, while always successful, were sometimes rather unorthodox. Which led some people, including some jealous co-workers, to brand him as crazy, a whack job, everything he didn't want. He seldom let on, but it actually hurt him very much.

"_Okay," Peter said, "Now this next scene is __really__ important. Pay close attention. Something happens here that will prove very noteworthy."_

The clouds drifted apart to reveal Bobby and Alex as they stepped into the den of Ray Wiznesky, a small town cop who had killed his stepdaughter. He immediately turned a gun on them. Bobby insisted that Alex be let go, _insisted,_ and finally, after taking both their guns, he let her go. And said he wanted to kill Bobby. Bobby, hands in the air where Ray could see them, eventually talked him into giving up his gun. Wiznesky was taken into custody, and escorted out by uniforms. When Ray grabbed the gun off one of them and killed himself, Bobby was devastated. It was around the same time he found out that his mother was dying. This, along with Alex's kidnapping, was the start of his downfall.

_Peter and Jacob saw everything up to the present. And it was the present that was going to kill Bobby. It was just about time for Jacob to do his thing._

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

It's a Wonderful Life Worth Living Chapter 3

Things were not going well for Bobby Goren. Not at all. He felt as if his life was spinning out of control, totally away from him. And he had no idea how to stop it.

Everything was wrong. He had gone undercover in the mental ward at Tates Prison to investigate rumors of torture and murder. And then _he _was the one tortured in that place, strapped down in a hot room with no food or water for over 60 hours, and then returned there. He came close to dying, and would have if his partner and captain hadn't rescued him. And his nephew Donny, who was the reason he had originally done this undercover sting, had escaped. Bobby didn't know if Donny was dead or alive. And although Tates was now being investigated for those allegations, Bobby thought his mission had been a failure, resulting in a long six month unpaid suspension for him, and marks in his partner and captain's jackets, which he hated even worse than his own punishment.

He started thinking about all the mistakes he had made in his life, all the things he either screwed up or could have done better.

Bobby's mom had died, which affected him badly. He had taken care of her his entire life, or at least tried—even that had been a failure. He should never have put her in Caramel Ridge; she'd hated it, absolutely hated it. She felt abandoned, and who could blame her? She'd said it herself—"What kind of a son would abandon his own mother in a mental institution? But then, I expected as much from you. You've always been inconsiderate, always thinking of yourself. Frank never would have done this. Poor Frank never got a break…and you never helped him out one bit. We _both _expected that… " She was right, he was a lousy son.

Now she was gone, and now…nothing. Nothing but the bills, anyway. Bobby certainly didn't mind paying the bills for his mother, the only problem was, he no longer had any money. His six month suspension, his mother's bills, his own bills, and life in general had not only wiped out everything he had, but put him into heavy debt. He was pretty much barely scraping along for a while there. He remembered living that way as a child—sometimes Dad had gambled away their food or rent money, and after he'd left there was never any money. That was something he swore would never happen again. And now look at him.

The only way he had to relieve just a portion of that was to get his job back, and the only way to do that was to take on another dangerous undercover mission which the Chief of Detectives was forcing him into. The Chief was no fan of his, and Bobby was convinced the Chief wanted him to die doing this mission. And even if he did make it out alive and start getting a paycheck again it would probably take years before his financial troubles eased.

The latest undercover stint also led to problems with his partner Alex, who hadn't liked not being told of the operation. This made him feel terrible; the one constant in his life the last few years was Alex. And he didn't know how to fix that.

And now Frank, his brother, had been murdered. All Bobby could think of was his last words to his brother, "If I hear you're on the bridge, getting ready to jump…I'll…I'll wait for the splash." Every time Bobby thought of that, he wanted to die. How could he have said that to his own brother? The brother who, at only age seven, had taken care of him, a bratty little four year old, when their parents had left them home alone for an entire weekend? _God, how could I say that! _Bobby thought, over and over. He was miserable. He was alone in the world now. He wanted to be the one who was dead. Well, maybe he could be… He put his head in his hands, fighting another one of those excruciating headaches that seemed to occur on a regular basis now and lasted for days.

To make matters worse, as if things could get any worse, on her deathbed his mother told him she wasn't even sure who his real father was. It was either her husband, the man he thought was his father, or a notorious serial killer. He'd just recently found out it was the serial killer. It was a crushing blow. The man he thought of as Dad wasn't a very good dad, but at least he didn't murder people. It changed everything, everything he'd ever thought or felt about himself, his whole identity. _A schizophrenic for a mother and a murderer for a father,_ he thought. _What a fucking mess they made of me._ He wished more than ever that he was dead.

And now came the final kick in the teeth. Bobby discovered his phone and financial records were being checked—by his partner and his captain—for evidence in the murder of his brother. He was deeply wounded that Alex had checked up on him like a common criminal; he felt utterly betrayed. He looked at her and said, "You think I'm a suspect?" And she told him, "Bobby, right now you _are _a suspect." And in utter disbelief he said, "You think I'm capable of that?" Then he confronted Ross, his captain, and asked point blank if Ross thought that he was capable of murdering his own brother. Ross told him, "You're a detective. What do you think? You're under stress. Your mother's death, your suspension, your father…" That led to another confrontation. And after that, what Ross suspected about Bobby's paternity was confirmed. He _was_ the son of Mark Ford Brady, the serial killer. It was more ammunition to use against him. Ross wasn't particularly happy about it, but he had to do his job.

After Bobby left, furious, Ross was called to another meeting with the Chief of Detectives concerning the beleaguered detective, and things went from bad to worse.

Later that evening, Bobby was in his kitchen, scrounging in the refrigerator for something to eat. Finding nothing, he settled on a beer. _Just as good,_ he thought, not really caring. As he opened the beer there was a knock on his door. He wasn't expecting anyone and unlocked the door.

There stood two detectives, whom he knew slightly, with some uniformed policemen behind them. They had come to arrest him for the murder of his brother. They made him turn around; wearily he put his hands behind him as they put the cuffs around his wrists.

He could tell they were nearly as embarrassed to be arresting him as he was embarrassed to be arrested, and for a second felt sorry for them. One even whispered to him, "Sorry, man, this is fucked up." Bobby nodded. As they read him his rights, he resigned himself to his fate. He should have anticipated this, why should anything be different now?

After suffering through the indignities of arrest, Bobby laid on the cot in his cell. His head throbbed unbearably. All the problems he'd had over the last two years came to a head and overwhelmed him. And right now he couldn't even come up with any bail money, another humiliating circumstance. He was just stuck. It was getting to him; he felt pressure in his head, in his body. He'd been fighting since he was a young child, and was now just plain tired. Let them do what they wanted to him, he no longer cared. All he wanted now was to sleep; to quit fighting, give up, and just sleep. Forever.

His partner Alex came by to give him some encouragement. "Bobby, I know you didn't do it, the Captain knows you didn't do it. It was the Chief. He's the one who had you arrested."

Bobby didn't say anything for a long while, then very listlessly he said, "What difference does it make? The point is, I am. This is what the Chief's been waiting for, if it was up to him he'd have me in here in a straitjacket. Or shipped off to Bellevue, and locked away for the rest of my life."

"It's not going to happen, Bobby! I already—"

"You know what, Eames? It doesn't fucking matter. Maybe he's right. Maybe I am a whack job. Just like my mother. And oh, yeah, let's not forget my _real_ father! He had to have been_ president_ of the entire Whack Job Club! Think of it, Eames! Think of the fucking gene pool I got to choose from—"

"Bobby! STOP IT!" When Bobby quieted for a moment, Eames said, "I've…I've been trying to come up with the bail money, but…"

"Forget it, Eames. I don't want anybody putting up any money for me. I couldn't begin to pay it back anyway. I'm a fucking screw up! Don't throw good money after bad." Bobby got up and banged on the door.

Eames watched sadly as Bobby was shackled again and led away.

O0O

Early the next morning, a guard came to his cell. "Hey, Goren! Get up, you're outta here!"

Bobby awoke groggily from a very fitful sleep. "What?"

"I said, get up. Your bail's been paid, and you're outta here. Or maybe you don't wanna go?"

Bobby was on his feet in a second. "Let's go." On the way out, Bobby said, almost angrily, "Who paid the bail?"

"I don't know. All I know is, it's paid."

So Bobby was out on bail. Now what? He wasn't sure whether he cared or not. Proving himself innocent would be difficult; if he failed, he could figure on prison, and he wouldn't last long in there, and even if he went through all the effort and proved himself innocent, he'd still be no better off. He'd still be dead ass broke, and Donny, if he was even still alive, would still be missing. His horrible nightmares that he'd suffered all his life would still be there, only now they'd be accompanied by nightmares of his terrible torture at Tates, and the murder of Frank. He hadn't been able to prevent the murder of his own brother; what the hell kind of detective was he? Eames and Ross would still have marks in their jackets, and he would forever be the whack job…but what bothered him the most was that Eames and Ross had thought him guilty enough to check up on him; his partner of eight years, and his captain. He and Ross didn't have the best of relationships, but he thought Ross at least respected his ethics and morality. He guessed not. And Eames…

He went back to his apartment; the entire time these and more thoughts preyed on his mind. Once there, he checked in the nightstand by his bed, the back-up gun was still there. He picked up the gun, turned it around in his hand over and over, and thought what a miserable piece of work he was. Knowing it was not in his best interests, he went into the kitchen and got a beer, then another, and realized he was out. That meant he'd have to get more, because he damn sure wasn't drunk _enough_. He put the gun in his belt on his jeans, and drove his car through the snow to Marty's, a local bar.

"You're here early," Johnny the bartender, commented. Bobby said nothing, just sat at the bar. Johnny knew what he liked, and set him up. He looked carefully at Bobby; Bobby didn't look so good. "You okay, Bobby?"

Bobby looked up for a moment and shook his head. His dark eyes were bright with pain, and it struck Johnny that he had never seen Bobby look so sad. In fact, he had never seen _anyone_ look so sad. He knew of a few of Bobby's recent problems, and offered to help. He leaned over to Bobby conspiratorially, despite the fact no one else was there.

"Listen, Bobby," he said, his voice just above a whisper, "I know things are a little tight for you right now, I could lend you a few bucks if you want." Bobby wondered how everybody seemed to know his difficulties, then he remembered, oh, year, the fact that he wasn't working kind of made his suspension fairly obvious. _Something else I can feel good about._

Bobby gave his friend a small smile. "That's all right, Johnny. I don't think I'll be…uh, needing it."

"Okay, then, well at least this next one is on me. Merry Christmas, Bobby!" he said, raising his own glass to Bobby's.

"Merry Christmas, Johnny," Bobby said listlessly.

Bobby stayed a lot longer than he planned, for the whole night, until closing. Soon all the other patrons had left to go home to their families. _"Families,"_ he thought sadly. _"Something I'll never have."_

"One more for the road, Bobby?" Johnny asked.

Bobby looked at his watch; ten minutes till closing time. "Nah, that's all right." He was somewhat buzzed. "Don't want to keep you any longer than possible. I'm sure you've got better things to do. You need to get home to your family."

"I'm here for the duration, no matter what. So if you want another…? On me?"

Bobby gave his friend another small smile, and got up. "No thanks, Johnny. But you're a good friend…thank you." He headed out, and stopped for a second at the door, turning back. "Have a great Christmas, Johnny."

Johnny watched sadly as his friend left, shaking his head. Things just didn't seem to be working out for him.

Bobby left his car at the bar and walked along slowly through the snow, not even noticing as more snow fell, landing in his hair, on his jacket and all around him. At first he thought about Christmas, and almost smiled at the irony of it all. Christmas, the happiest time of year. _How many people killed themselves at_ _Christmas?_ he wondered. He knew there were a lot, and he wondered at their reasons. He laughed cynically. Here it was Christmas, and it meant little or nothing to him. He had no one to share it with—no wife, no family. Of course he bought Alex a little something every year; she was his partner and he thought, his friend. And Denise. He did love Denise, but never thought himself worthy of her. And he never understood why she always consented to go out with him or have him over. Probably a pity fuck, he thought bitterly. His mind turned to the gun that was still in his belt, and he wandered into a dark empty alley. He stood with his back against a wall, and took the gun back out of his belt. He stared at it for a long time. He'd never put his gun in his mouth before, that would be insane, the slightest thing could go wrong…_guess this means I really am crazy_, he thought. The thing he feared more than anything in his life had finally happened. Well, at least it happened at a time when no one else could be hurt from it.

Strange thoughts went through his mind. His early Catholic upbringing taught him that suicides would never see Heaven. _Which is strange,_ he thought_._ _If you're committing suicide, it means you're crazy. Why would God punish a crazy person, someone who would need God's help the most? Didn't make sense..._The odd thoughts continued. He wondered what the gun would taste like in his mouth, or if it was so cold that his tongue would stick to it. Would he feel any pain at all, or would it hurt for just a second? _Please God, please don't let me do this!!_

"_Okay," Peter said, looking down on Bobby. "Jacob, you're on!"_

Bobby had slid down, his back still to the wall. _Please, God! _He said again. He looked up to the heavens, almost as though he was looking into Peter's eyes, and Peter wondered if perhaps he had sent the wrong man to save him. Maybe someone more experienced—but it was too late now. All he could do was pray that Jacob did it right.

There were tears in Bobby's eyes, and he cried. He put he head in his hands and just sobbed. Now he was glad he was crazy; it was the only way God would ever forgive him. Through those tears he looked again at the gun in his hand. _Please, God, forgive me..._

Just at that moment there was a commotion at the front of the alley, distracting Bobby. He looked up to see an old man being accosted by a group of young gang members.

"Hey!" he shouted. His natural instincts kicked in, and he jumped up. "Police!"

The gang members took one look at him and suddenly started running. They'd never noticed Bobby in the shadows, no telling how many more police there were.

Bobby reached the old man, helping him up, warily watching for any returning gang members. "Are you alright?" he asked the man.

Jacob looked up at him. "A better question would be, are you alright?"

"What?" Bobby said. The surprise was evident in his voice.

"I said, are you okay? _Are _you?"

Bobby gave him a strange look. "Of course. I wasn't the one being attacked."

"No, but you were the one trying to kill yourself."

Bobby stepped back, narrowing his eyes. "What did you say?"

"You tried to kill yourself. Lucky I stepped in when I did."

Bobby was shocked to discover this man, whoever he was, knew what he was doing. His voice hardened. "Yeah, well there's still plenty of time."

"Oh, no, no! You can't do that!" Jacob told him. "Not after I just saved you!"

"Watch me," Bobby said grimly. "And what the hell are you talking about, anyway? _I_ saved _you_."

"Yes, you saved me because I let you save me. To save _you_."

Bobby pushed the palms of his hands against his throbbing temples. "What?" he asked again, tiredly. He really didn't need this crap now. He sat on a low snow-covered brick wall, elbows on knees, head down, still massaging his temples. "I can't… go on_…_" his voice was barely above a whisper. "Sometimes I just…I wish I'd never been born…"

"What did you say… you wish you'd never been born?" Jacob thought about that for a moment. Then, "Funny you should say that. Okay… done!"

Bobby looked up, puzzled.

"You just got your wish, Bobby. You are now officially…not born. Uh, I mean, officially, you were never born."

tbc


	4. Chapter 4

It's a Wonderful Life Worth Living Chapter 4

"That's right, Bobby. You got your wish; you were never born."

Bobby couldn't help it, he laughed out loud. "What the hell is this, something out of 'It's a Wonderful Life'?"

Jacob had never heard of 'It's a Wonderful Life.' "Excuse me?"

Bobby stopped laughing, irritated again. "Next time you try to make something up, try something that hasn't been seen at least 10 times by average American."

Jacob still looked confused. "Well, I don't know about all that. What I do know is that you were never born. And you get to see what the world would be like without Robert Goren."

"You're…serious, aren't you?" Bobby said, realizing for the first time that Jacob might possibly be a little "off," and maybe pose a danger to others. _This guy's crazier than I am._ Very slowly, he reached into his belt for his gun. To his horror, it wasn't there.

"Looking for your gun?"

Startled, Bobby looked up quickly. _Oh God! He's got the gun! Somehow this psycho managed to get my gun!_ Bobby watched Jacob carefully, scrutinizing him, looking for any sign of where he may have put the gun. Not seeing it, he said, as non-threateningly as possible, "Could you give me the gun, please."

"What gun? You don't have a gun. You--"

"Bullshit!" Bobby was done being nice. "Give me the fucking gun!"

"I'm trying to tell you! You don't have a gun because you were never born—"

Not even hearing him, Bobby felt a moment of fear, then tried to calm himself. Losing his gun was a serious matter. He had to find it! He grabbed Jacob, and did a quick frisk. No gun. He started retracing his steps, until he got to the start of alley, the last place he remembered having it when he scared those gang members away—oh God! Did one of them have it? He had just committed the unpardonable sin of losing his gun. If he wasn't in trouble before (which he was) he was now. More fuel to add to the fire. "I have to find that gun!" he told Jacob, kicking the snow with his foot in case it had been dropped and covered by the falling snow.

He looked all over, kicking the snow, then on his hands and knees, moving it with his hands. He looked up at Jacob. "Are you going to stand there, or are you going to help?" he demanded.

"I'm helping," Jacob said, giving one feeble kick at the snow and stopping, knowing there was no point to it. There was no gun. Bobby glared up at him angrily, and Jacob tried once more. "You don't have a gun because you were never in the police department. You were never in the police department because you were never born."

"Shut the fuck up!" Bobby was sick of hearing Jacob ramble on with his nonsense.

Jacob didn't say another word, and stood there watching until Bobby finally gave up.

"It's not here," he said miserably. When Jacob said nothing, Bobby shook his head in frustration and told him, "Well, say something, just not that bullshit."

"But—hmmm, do you have your wallet, with your ID?"

Bobby felt his back pocket, then all over. "No."

"Ah ha! See?"

"See what? That you ripped off my wallet, too? Were you working with those guys?" he accused.

"Heavens no! But don't you see? You have no wallet, no ID because you—"

"Were never born," Bobby finished.

"So you believe me now?" Jacob asked hopefully.

"No. I just lost it or…someone stole it." He looked at Jacob. "Good thing I'm dead, now, huh?" he said sarcastically, "cause I sure ain't much of a detective."

"Technically, you're not dead, you—"

"Luckily we're not too far from my place," Bobby continued. "It's possible I left my ID there…or maybe at Marty's Bar? Gotta tell 'ya, I'm not exactly at my best right now…uh…?"

"Jacob, my name is Jacob, and that's why I'm here," Jacob said softly.

"Well, you can leave now, Jacob, 'cause I'm heading home." He couldn't believe it, _I even fucked up killing myself. Could this night get any worse?_ he thought.

"Oh it can get lots worse, and it will before the night is over."

"What? How did you—I didn't say that out loud…did I?" He put his head in his hands, thoroughly confused. "What is happening to me? Maybe I had too much to drink, I don't know…" He suddenly realized, "My headache…it's gone!"

"That's right, you're not going to feel any more pain. There's nothing wrong with you now, Bobby. Nothing more than not really being here won't cure."

"Knock it off, Jacob! I'm going home. And you're not welcome."

Jacob followed anyway. Bobby thought about running, with his long legs he could easily outdistance him, and get rid of this crackpot. But something told him that probably wouldn't work, either. Not tonight. The guy would probably fly to keep up with him. As they neared Marty's bar, it was obvious Bobby's car was gone.

Bobby stared at the place where he'd parked his car.

"Is your car missing?" Jacob said. It really wasn't a question.

Bobby looked at him sharply. "No. I um, forgot, I walked. I walk here a lot," he lied. "Besides, my car keys are gone, too."

They headed back to Bobby's apartment. As they neared his building, Bobby slowed down, then stood gazing at the building.

"Something wrong, Bobby?" Jacob asked, seeing the look on his face.

"My apartment…it looks like…like…"

"Like a bunch of crack dealers live here?"

"I'll find out what the hell is going on!" Bobby said adamantly. Getting closer he saw the entire building was run down, as he entered he saw that most of the light bulbs were broken, providing little light. The stairwell smelled of urine, vomit, and beer. Most of the windows were broken out, he could hear a baby crying pitifully somewhere. Going to his own apartment, he tried opening the door; the handle came off in his hands. As he tried to push it open, the door suddenly was pulled open from the inside, and he was confronted by a very angry woman carrying the crying baby.

"Whadda ya want?" she demanded. "You asshole. You broke my goddamn door!"

"What do _I _want? You're in _my_ apartment!" Looking behind her he could see the place was a total wreck. "And what did you do to it? How'd you get in?"

The woman glared at him. "I don't know what the hell _you're_ smokin' but it seems a hell of a lot better than the stuff I got. Now get out!" She slammed the door in his face. It came right back open, and she slammed it again.

Bobby stood there for a moment in shock, then watched as two incredibly grungy men made their way up the stairs. They looked at him suspiciously as they bumped him on their way to another apartment. And another door opened a crack, then a moment later closed again.

"Don't you see, Bobby?" Jacob said softly. "When you were living, this was a nice place. Everyone knew a cop lived here, the drug dealers automatically stayed away, and respectable people lived here. This place was a good place to live. Since you were never born, this place was overrun by drug addicts and drug dealers. People like that heroin addict with her poor little crack baby…"

"You're freakin nuts! I gotta get out of here."

Once outside, Jacob said, "Where to now, Bobby?"

"I don't—how the hell do you know my name anyway?"

"Why wouldn't I know your name? I've been watching you since you were a boy."

"Watching me? You…you mean you've been stalking me? Is that why you're here now?"

"No, I told you I'm here to save you."

Bobby slumped against the side of the building. "I don't understand what you're doing to me, but…I'm gonna be okay, Jacob. I'm okay!! Just leave me the hell alone!" Bobby stalked off angrily.

Jacob looked up to the heavens. "I know, I know," he said skeptically. "This one is a tough one."

Bobby never did find his car. He managed to hail a cab, and got in. Before he could even shut the door, Jacob jumped in. Bobby sighed, rubbing his eyes and his forehead.

"Where to?" the cabbie asked.

"I…I'm not sure…just drive around…" Bobby told him distractedly.

The cabbie stared at him for a minute, then mumbled, 'Just drive around' suspiciously. Something was strange here.

After a bit, Jacob said, "Bobby, how are you going to pay for this?"

Bobby closed his eyes in frustration. "I don't know. I forgot I don't have my wallet."

Hearing this, the cabbie slammed on his brakes, throwing his passengers around in the back of his car. "Get out!" he yelled at them. "I knew there was something up with you two. Get out!"

Jacob and a frustrated Bobby found themselves out on the street. Bobby had no idea where to go, so he just started walking. He came to the end of street, waiting for the light to change. Even at this late hour the streets were busy.

"Well, helloo," a woman said, touching his arm, stroking it up and down, flirting with him. Bobby had no time for this, and turned to tell her.

He got the shock of his life. "Maggie!"

Maggie Coulter looked at him, surprised.

"Maggie? Maggie Coulter?"

Now she backed up a tad from him, surprised. "Who are you?" she spat. "I don't know you!"

This time it was Bobby who grabbed her arm. "Maggie, what are you doing? Out here in the cold in the middle of the night, dressed like that?"

The woman was dressed very scantily, in extremely short black leather shorts, black leather boots, and a matching leather bra top. A very small fake fur covered her thin shoulders.

Maggie stared at him, not recognizing the man at all. But she liked his looks immediately, and latched onto his arm again, very closely. "How do you know me? Did I do you before? Sometimes when I drink, I can't remember, y'know? Whatever, I like you big guys. The bigger the better," she said, "if you know what I mean." Her meaning was crystal clear.

"Maggie, what happened to you?" Bobby was at a loss, and very sad. "You were doing fine, getting ready to graduate from college—"

"Okay, mister," she said, breaking contact and moving back. "You're startin' to scare me."

"Maggie, let me help you! We can—"

"I'm outta here, mister. Too bad…" she looked his body over regretfully, then took off.

"Maggie! Maggie!" He started to go after her, but Jacob stopped him.

"You can't help her, Bobby. She's too far gone."

"But—she--what happened? I thought—"

"Her mind's been gone since the second time she was kidnapped and raped by Simon Matic."

Bobby looked hard at Jacob. "What do you mean, the second time?"

"Her kidnapper was never caught, and was so cocky, knowing he'd never be caught, that he kidnapped her again, raping her continuously for a week. After that, Maggie lost all respect for herself and her body, and well, this is what happened. Her kidnapper is still out there to this day, wrecking havoc on many more women."

"That's impossible!" Bobby raged. "We caught him, and she made the ID. He's been in prison ever since!"

"Well…no. Bobby, you weren't there to catch him, or to help Maggie. Remember? And all the other women in this city he raped? Since you weren't there to catch Simon Matic, you weren't there to help them, either. So you see, Bobby, your life has already impacted many other lives."

"You're lying!" Bobby fumed. "You've drugged me, or done something. I don't know what you did, but you've done something…" He leaned against the street lamp. This night was turning into a nightmare. "I need to talk to someone, Jacob, someone who won't judge me." _or arrest me._ Bobby had a desperate look in his eyes.

"I know just the person!" Jacob told him, hoping that this one would do the trick.

"Yes!" Bobby said, as he recognized Lewis' Auto Body Shop. "Lewis is doing really well," Bobby spoke fondly of his friend. "He's in the process of opening another shop. At least something is going right for somebody."

Bobby glanced at him, but Jacob didn't say anything. Getting closer now, they could read the sign, 'Bill's Auto Works.'

"What the hell?" Entering the building, they saw a man standing by an office.

"Can I help you?" he asked courteously.

"Yeah," Bobby said. "Where's Lewis?"

The man looked confused. "Lewis?"

Bobby was starting to get irritated. "Yeah, Lewis, the guy who owns this shop!"

"I own this shop," the guy said, sensing trouble. "My name's Bill Rodgers. Hence the name on the sign, '_Bill's _Auto Shop.' Now what can I do for you?"

"You're wrong! Lewis Martin owns this place! He inherited it from his dad!"

Rodgers laughed. "Okay, I know now. Lewis Martin, _that _loser!"

Now Bobby was getting angry. "Loser?!"

"Hell, yeah! Listen, buddy, between you and me, that guy had no business trying to run this place. He ran it into the ground soon after taking over for his dad. I bought this place out from under him for a song. I ain't saying the guy was dumb, but he wasn't exactly the sharpest crayon in the box, know what I mean? No head for business at all, y'know?"

"Yeah, okay." Bobby looked defeated. "So where is Lewis now?"

"Probably down at the Burger Joint, where he works. The guy couldn't even manage that. They got a teenager running it."

As they left the building, Rodgers called after them, "Sure I can't help you guys with something?"

Bobby started heading to the Burger Joint, followed by Jacob. "Bobby, you're not going to like it."

They entered the building, and immediately spotted Lewis. He was wearing a dirty white apron as he wiped down a table. His glasses were covered in grease.

"Lewis?" Bobby said softly.

Lewis looked up, grabbing his glasses and wiping them on his apron. "Yeah?"

Bobby was shocked by his appearance. "Lewis, what happened to you?"

Lewis shrugged. "Don't know what you're talking about, man." He didn't seem all that anxious to find out, either.

Bobby grabbed him by the shoulders. "Lewis! Look at me! Closely!"

Lewis stood there, staring at him, a little frightened. "What…what do you want? The money's in the cash register, take it, take it all!"

Bobby was totally exasperated. "Lewis, don't you know me? We grew up together! I used to come over to your house, all the time! Remember? Mom or Dad would beat the crap out of me, and I'd end up over your place?"

At Lewis' blank look, Bobby continued. "I taught you all about math! You were doing great! Your business was doing great—"

"Nobody ever taught me anything!" Lewis broke from Bobby's grasp angrily. "If I'd known any kind of math you think I would've Iost my goddamn shop? You're fuckin' nuts buddy! I don't know you from Adam. But I guess we'll find out; my manager just called the police!"

They could hear sirens in the distance. "C'mon, Bobby, we need to leave!" Jacob pulled on his arm, and finally got the shell-shocked Bobby out the door.

"I didn't think this was going to be so difficult," Jacob said, looking up to Heaven.

They managed to move fast enough that the police never caught up with them and they ended up near a cemetery.

"You don't have to tell me, Jacob. I never went over to Lewis' house, and I never taught Lewis anything."

Jacob merely nodded, and Bobby suddenly became aware of where they were. "This," he said shakily, "this is a cemetery…"

"Yep. It's where your mother and brother are buried."

"No…it can't be! This place is rundown, overgrown with weeds and—my mother—I buried her in a cemetery where—"

"Look at the name on the headstones," Jacob gently suggested.

Bobby crouched down, pulling the frozen weeds and snow away from the headstones that were placed fairly close together.

The first merely said, Frances Goren b-1934 d-1972. The other said Frank Goren b-1956 d-1974.

Bobby knelt in front of the graves, rubbing his tearing eyes. "Mom…Frank…" Still staring he said, "The dates…they're all wrong. Mom and Frank—Mom just died last year, and Frank just a few weeks ago…"

Jacob knelt by Bobby, his arm around him. "This is difficult, I know. But the truth is your mother died much earlier in her life. She would never take her pills, and she had a bad psychotic break, and killed herself."

Bobby looked at him in horror. Jacob continued, "You weren't there to take care of her, Bobby. She was miserable, ever since her symptoms developed. You were the only one who ever made sure she took her pills. She really had a much better life when you were there to take care of her."

"And…and F-Frank?" Bobby asked shakily.

"Since your mother was unable to care for Frank, he was in and out of foster homes since the age of ten. He ended up overdosing at age eighteen. And, he never got the chance to father Donny. So your nephew Donny was never born, either."

Jacob helped Bobby as he got slowly to his feet. Then he dropped back down, and started pulling furiously at the weeds surrounding their graves, the tears nearly blinding him.

"Funny, isn't it, how one man's life touches so many others? This is really a great gift, Bobby: the chance to see what the world would be like without you."

Bobby didn't think it was so wonderful.

"So what other bad news do you have for me?"

"Oh, I can't tell you, it's not allowed."

He grabbed Jacob by the shoulders. "Tell me, damn it! Tell me! What about Denise?! What about Eames?!"

"You're going to have to find that out for yourself, Bobby," Jacob told him.

Bobby let him go, and nodded resignedly. He still held out a faint hope that neither of them would have been affected, that this whole thing was still not real, that somehow the scotch he'd had earlier had been drugged, or something. _Anything._ Anything to be out of this nightmare. He just wasn't sure of anything anymore.

tbc


	5. Chapter 5

It's a Wonderful Life Worth Living Chapter 5

Before they knew it they were back in Manhattan again, and Bobby once again remembered his situation. Suspiciously he asked, "Just how _did_ my bail get paid? Did you do it?"

"Oh, no!" Jacob said, surprised that Bobby would even think that. "We don't have money in Heaven."

"Of course," Bobby said, the sarcasm coming through. "Of course not! Then how did it get paid?"

"It was all your friends while you were alive. Your partner Alex, Captain Ross, your detective friends Logan and Wheeler, and your good friend Lewis. Those and a few others, they all got together, for you Bobby."

Bobby was stunned, "My friends? But…"

"Remember, Bobby, no man is a failure who has friends." Bobby thought about that for a long time.

0o0

Soon they found themselves in front of Denise's apartment. "Okay," Bobby said, almost afraid to hear the answer, "where is Denise?" He didn't even bother going to the door.

"Well, she doesn't live here anymore," Jacob told him. "She didn't find what she was looking for here so she moved back to California with her mother. She became an old maid."

"What? That's impossible! Denise is…an incredibly beautiful woman! Any man would be lucky to have her!"

"That's just the problem, Bobby, she didn't just want 'any' man. She was looking for the love of her life, a man who was intelligent, charming, and compassionate, and cared more for others than he ever cared for himself. When she didn't find that man, she assumed he didn't exist, and left."

"Me?" Bobby asked softly. "Was...I that man?"

"Well, I really can't say for sure, 'cause you were never born."

"_Hypothetically_," Bobby said, playing the game now, "if it _was_ me, why didn't she ever say she loved me?"

"_Hypothetically_," Jacob answered, "maybe she did, but you rejected it as pity."

_Oh God! I really messed things up_, Bobby thought.

"And Alex?" he asked. He could only hope for the best. _Please God…"_I guess her career really developed without me to slow her down…?"

"Let's go see," Jacob suggested. It was morning now, and they headed to One Police Plaza. After signing in as visitors they headed up to the eleventh floor. Bobby looked around, his eyes searching for Alex. Not seeing her he looked for her desk.

Turning to Jacob he said, "Where is she, Jacob? And don't give me any of your 'I can't tell you' shit! Now where is she?!"

"Something I can help you gentlemen with?" came a voice from behind them, and Bobby turned to see Captain Danny Ross.

"Captain! Thank God!" Bobby exclaimed. "At least one thing's right in this world!"

"Glad you think so," Ross said, not a bit happy. He stared at Bobby for a moment, wondering at his familiarity.

Jacob leaned into Bobby. He whispered, "Captain Ross is about to be demoted. His department's solve rate is the worst in thirty years. Because you weren't here."

Bobby shook his head, trying to clear it, as Ross waited patiently. "Yes, uh, Captain Ross. I was wondering if you could tell me when Detective Eames would be in?"

Ross narrowed his eyes at him. "What? Are you some kind of smart ass or something?"

"Huh? No, sir. I'm…I'm a friend. We just haven't seen each other in a while…"

"Oh, okay, then I guess you don't know…well, I'm sorry to tell you that Detective Eames was killed in the line of duty. Two years ago."

"What?! Please, no!!"

"Here, sit down…Ramsey! Some water here!" Ross helped Bobby into a chair, and handed him a glass of water that Detective Ramsey brought over.

"I'm so sorry," Ross continued. "How well did you know Detective Eames?"

Bobby looked up at him as the tears streamed down his face. "For years…we were par—friends, we…knew each for years…what happened?"

"Such a waste," Ross shook his head. "She and her partner, Detective Jefferies, went to see this small town cop, a guy named Ray Wiznesky, who'd killed his stepdaughter. Apparently when they stepped into his den he pulled a gun on them. Witnesses heard them trying to talk him down, but they couldn't do it. He just shot them both in cold blood. They were both killed."

And this time Jacob didn't have to tell Bobby it was because he wasn't there. "Oh God! Oh God! N000!!" Bobby got up and stumbled blindly out of the bullpen, down the stairs and out onto the street.

"Is he going to be okay?" Ross asked. "He seemed to take it pretty bad…"

"They were close," Jacob explained. "I better go check on him." He left, with Ross staring after him.

Hurrying down, Jacob found Bobby in the parking garage, leaning over someone's car, sobbing uncontrollably, calling for him. "Jacob!" he cried, "Jacob, help me! Get me back! I don't care anymore what happens to me! Please! Jacob, I want to live again! I want to live! Please, Jacob, I want to live!"

He looked up for Jacob, but couldn't see him, and the tears still streamed down his face, which made his head positively pound. He didn't need that now…suddenly it hit him—he had a headache! A horribly throbbing, head hammering _wonderful _headache! He was alive!

"Alex! I've got to see Alex!" He went back into the building, and took the stairs, two at a time. Running into the bullpen, he saw Eames standing by her desk, talking on the phone. When she saw him, she put the phone down.

"Where have you been?" she asked, angry with concern. Not waiting for an answer, she continued, "we've been looking all over for you! Me, Ross, Logan. Even Lewis. And Denise is out of her mind with worry…"

Before she could finish, Bobby was on her. Not caring how it looked, he kissed her full on the lips. Then hugged her, holding her in a tight embrace.

"Ahem.." Ross cleared his throat.

"Isn't it great?" Bobby said exuberantly. "I'm alive! You're alive Eames! And I know I'm going to prison; isn't it great?!"

"Have you been drinking?" Ross questioned, but Bobby ignored the question. "Eames, there so much I have to tell you!"

Alex stared at him, amused. "Well, I don't know whether or not you've been drinking, but you sure are happy. Do you already know?"

"All I know is I'm happy to be here!"

Alex and Ross both laughed. "Bobby, you're in the clear!"

"What?"

"I'll tell you this real quick, 'cause you have to call Denise, but you're in the clear. Declan is the murderer; he framed you with the Chief of D's help!"

"How? What did he..? What happened?"

"Well, you know how the Chief of D's has always disliked you?"

"Dislike is not the word I'd use, but yeah, ever since the first time I went out with his assistant, Denise. Not that I haven't deserved some of it, but go on."

"Well, he knew all about your mentor, and you told Declan about the chief. Anyway, they got together and framed you, but Declan couldn't go through with it and told us everything. So you're all cleared now!"

Bobby had tears in his eyes, and he hugged Alex again.

"Detective…" Ross said warningly.

Finally Bobby looked up. "Denise. I gotta see Denise." He hurried out of the bullpen, where he waited impatiently for the elevator, nearly taking the stairs again.

"Bobby! Wait up!" Alex called, just as the elevator doors opened. He got in, but held the doors open.

Catching her breath, she said, "I just wanted to tell you, I'm having a little impromptu get-together tonight, at my place. I'd like for you and Denise to be there…I think we've all got a little something to celebrate. You know, a few drinks, maybe a Christmas movie or so…"

"Sure, I'll call you," Bobby said, and as the doors closed, he added, "May I suggest It's a Wonderful Life?"

0o0

Bobby couldn't wait to get to Denise's home. As soon as he got there, he grabbed her and held her forever.

"I was so worried…" she said, finally pulling away to look him over. "Are you alright? I didn't even know you'd been arrested, then—"

"I'm alright _now,"_ he told her, embracing her again. "We…we have to talk…" he couldn't stop kissing her.

"I know," she managed, in-between kisses.

He took her hand and led her to the couch. Sitting them both down, he looked at her. "Do you know how beautiful you are?" he asked her.

Her green eyes twinkled. "And do you know how attractive _you _are? Never has a man done for me what you do, and in so many ways. Bobby, I love you so much!"

"I never realized…and I've loved you since the day I met you…"

Denise nodded, "eight years ago." Then she said, "Don't you think we've wasted enough time?"

Bobby smiled, the smile she so loved.

She looked into his eyes, and the love in her eyes was so evident. Then she said, "Bobby, I've always loved you, and I always will. Will you marry me? And make me the happiest, luckiest woman in the world…"

He answered her with a long, lingering kiss, then said, "I'm the lucky one, Denise."

Denise asked, "You know who else is lucky?"

Bobby cocked an eyebrow at her, and laughed. "Don't even _think_ I'm sharing you with anyone else!"

She smacked him lightly. "No, Goofy. The other lucky one will be our baby, cause he'll have the best daddy in the world. In about seven months."

Bobby stared at her for a moment. "Oh God, Denise!" And he kissed her mouth, long and deep, and all over her eyes and nose, then dropped down and kissed her abdomen.

0o0

_Up in Heaven, Peter presented Jacob with his new wings. "Congratulations, Jacob, on a job well done." They watched the scene below._

_"Thank you, Sir," Jacob replied, very proud of his wings. "And if I may say, Sir, I don't think we could have picked a more deserving man." Peter whole-heartedly agreed._

The get-together at Alex's that night was a rather small intimate event. There were just a few people: Bobby and Denise, Lewis, Ross, Logan and Wheeler and Alex and her friend, Detective Peter Lyons. Bobby and Denise had already announced their upcoming wedding and baby-to-be, much to the approval of everyone. Then Alex and Peter announced their engagement.

"We _could _have had a double wedding," Alex said, "except I guess you two are in more of a hurry." They all laughed and toasted, Denise with fruit juice.

Later they got to talking, and finally Logan said, "Hey, Bobby, you never did say where you were for the last twenty four hours…"

Bobby got serious, causing everyone to do the same.

"I was with a very old friend, from a long time ago. We talked, and Jacob set me straight on a few things, taught me a few things I didn't know."

That raised a few eyebrows. "Yes, it's true, I said it. He taught me some things I never knew, or realized—"

"Such as?"

"Well, some important things: first, that each man's life touches so many other lives in ways that we'll never know…when he isn't around, well, things are different." That was something no one had considered, and something really intriguing to think about. After a moment, Alex said, "and what's the other things, Bobby?"

Bobby looked at each of them. "That I have incredible friends, and a beautiful new family. And most of all, I really do have a wonderful life."

End


End file.
